One Man's Eyes
by Soul Music
Summary: A stake out for Gibbs turns into a night he'll never forget when he resuces a boy from the hands of attackers. What does this boy mean, who is he and why does he feel so protective of him. Tony/Gibbs - Father/Son
1. Chapter 1

**Keep Hanging On**

**by**

**Soul Music**

For the time of year, the weather wasn't particularly cold, but it still felt that way. The wind that had just started to pick up was whipping through the thin threads of his suit jacket and causing him to hunch his shoulders against the chilly attack. The sky was a murky black, coloured only by air pollution and the occasional spark of a streetlight as he passed under their dull orange glow. His shoes were the only sound that echoed down the empty street. Empty was definitely the right word, only three cars lined the sidewalk and there wasn't another pedestrian down the entire pavement. At least not one that he could see.

Pulling one hand out of the confines of his pocket, he checked the time on the watch, having to pause for a moment under the street light glow to see the numbers. 11:26. Half an hour for the next morning to roll around. Running a hand through his brown hair, he continued on his walk down the quiet street, keeping green eyes out for the watch.

The buildings on either side towered up in black shadows reaching towards the even more shadowed sky. "Hey, kid!" A voice shouted from a dark alcove in the wall. He jumped, cursing himself for letting someone take him by surprise, but, he ignored the voice, continuing on his way. "Oh! Look who's high 'n' mighty, not payin' any attention to us. Ya see that, Brad? Ignorin' us."

_Not going to get provoked, not going to help. _The voice inside his head repeated on a loop like a broken record. _Just keep walking. _And he did, his pace measured. Speeding up right now wouldn't help. Or maybe it would. Heavy footfalls came into hearing behind him, the uneven sound of four flat feet thudding against the concrete of the sidewalk. He sighed, ignoring the voice in his head. He turned. "What?"

"He turned! Woah, kid has balls." The first, and taller of the two, exclaimed

"Something you obviously don't have."

"And a sense of humour." The second sniggered, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Look, I don't have a wallet, I don't have a phone. My watch isn't worth anything, but you can have my shoes, you could beat some sense into each other with them."

The taller's smirk faded, replaced with a snarl that made him look lopsided.

"Brad." It was an order as well as a name. The shorter sniggerer stepped forward, lunging out at his arm. All his fingers came back with was the fabric of a jacket. But that was enough to pull the kid towards him. The boy couldn't've been more than fifteen, but he brought his foot down on Sniggers toes, causing him to let out a yelp, releasing him into the night.

"What the hell was that!" shouted the leader, taking off after the boy with a long-legged advantage. He'd just reached the corner onto the bigger, more main street when the back of his jacket was grabbed, hauling him backwards into the grip of the leader. Brad appeared by his side a moment later, the face of a thoroughly pissed man plastered over his mouth.

"Little bastard. Don't know what's good for you." The leader hissed into his ear. Something cold pressed against his neck, the unmistakable steel of a pen knife. His adam's apple bobbed, but his jaw was set.

"Search him, Brad. With threads like these he's gunna have somethin' on him."

The boy was about to open his mouth to comment was a soft clicking noise behind the three 'buddies' caused the kid's capture to stiffen, his knuckles turning white against the handle of his blade. The boy couldn't see what was happening behind him, and didn't feel turning his head towards the noise would benefit him in the long run, since that would mean turning his neckline into the blade.

"Uh, Brad…I think we've got all we need, right."

"Yeah, I'd say so." And with that, in the quick second of movement, the kid found himself pushed into the wall, his head smacking into the brick. The footsteps were fading away when he'd finished sliding down the wall, blinking to clear his confusion. He brought his green eyes up to see the half-shadowed figure replacing a gun into the holster by his waist. Blue eyes turned towards the boy, watching for a second before extending a hand towards him. "Thanks." He muttered, taking the proffered hand, a double meaning of 'thanks for before and thanks for now.' The man didn't reply, didn't even nod at first, just watched him carefully, making the boy avert his eyes. He hated being stared at.

"What's your name?" The voice was surprisingly gentle for the exterior.

"Anthony DiNozzo. Are you usually in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress?"

Was that a smile he just saw? It was! A quick flash, finally the voice would match the face. But, no, it returned to the unreadable expanse within a second.

"Gibbs!" A voice hissed from the darkness. Another figure jogged up behind the white haired man, zipping up a jacket against the outside chill. The man now that had been addressed as Gibbs turned towards the runner, who was younger with a shock of blonde hair and a gun obvious in its holster beside his hip. "What's this?"

"This is a person who needs a name and doesn't like being called 'this'." Tony, since Anthony was such a mouthful, replied with attitude, brushing down his arm. His head still hurt, but he'd had worse. He knew what a concussion usually felt like, and this was just a goose-egg type job. Nothing life threatening. Gibbs gave another one of his half smiles which disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He ignored the other agent's question, addressing Tony instead.

"Where are your parents, Anthony? It's late to be out." Tony shrugged at that, laughing softly.

"New York, probably. Or Miami, perhaps Cuba. They don't tell me. And Tony, I prefer it."

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Being forgotten about." Came the simple answer. _Being forgotten about,_ Gibbs thought, internal bells being set off by those three simple words. Who would forget about their child, leave them on the cold streets of Washington. He didn't even have a bag on him. How old was this child? Fifteen perhaps, at a stretch. He'd go with a safer bet of fourteen, so he asked.

"Fifteen next March." Which did make him fourteen.

"Cadmen, get back the car. Where're you staying Tony?" Gibbs waved off the blonde agent off and he turned his back, revealing the letters 'NCIS' on the back of his jacket.

"I don't know. My father checked out of the hotel, took the bags." The boy looked down at the dark pavement, a shiver running through his lanky frame. A flash of anger flickered across Gibbs' blue eyes; he unzipped his jacket and held it out towards the cold teen. He wasn't all that surprised to see Tony flinch. A father like the one that had just been described to him wasn't going to be winning any awards for looking after their child. After a moment of green eyes carefully looking over the gesture, Tony took the proffered coat thankfully, wrapping it around his shoulder.

A light feeling of must was developing in Gibbs' chest towards this child. It had been less than ten minutes and already he felt some connection towards the boy, and a great deal of anger to those he called parents. "C'mon, you can come back with me." A glimmer of uncertainty, or was that fear, registered in Tony's expressive green eyes. "It's alright; I'm not going to hurt you." He reached inside a pocket and pulled out his badge. He didn't know why he'd said the words, but they seem to have worked. They'd felt _right_ to say.

Tony accepted the offer by taking the step towards Gibbs and following him over to the second of two black sedans. The first was occupied by the blonde haired agent, Roy Cadmen, who had jogged over and another male agent in the passenger seat. The second was empty until Gibbs' opened the passenger door for Tony and the driver's side for him.

Gibbs pulled out first, Cadmen following with the quiet drive back to the Navy Yard. Somewhere on the straight lines and curving corners of the roads, Tony had rested his head back against the window and closed his green eyes. Sleep had followed soon after. The silence in the car hadn't bothered Gibbs, even if he did cast a concern filled glance towards the boy sitting next to him. _Concern_. Real concern. Not just vague worry that anyone with an ounce of humanity had for other people but true, _exact_, apprehension for his well-being. He hadn't felt anything close to it since Kelly. A surprise to say the least. He permitted himself a small smile as he pulled into the underground car park, killing the headlights leaving only the light from outside to illuminate the passengers.

And that's when he saw the bruises, the dark circles under the eyes, the barely healed cut hiding beneath the brown hairs.

* * *

**First chapter done. Always a good sign. It's not beta'd, if anyone wants to beta I'd be overjoyed, but at the moment I don't have one, so I apologise for mistakes and such. Reviews are like chocolate cake and if I had virtual chocolate cake I'd give it to every reviewer. And that's it!**

**Soul Music!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: A Distinct Impression**

The bull pen was empty except for the hum of computer consoles and the scrolling news which bathed the area in a red glow. Gibbs couldn't help but smile at the bright excitement in Tony's eyes as he lead him towards his desk, where the desk light was still on casting a pale wash over the full desk. It had been a while since the boy had said anything except a disgruntled moan when Gibbs had shaken him awake.

Gibbs seated himself on the comfortable chair behind his desk, but not before grabbing another chair and patting it on the back with the words "Sit" addressed to Tony. Doing as he was told, Tony let his foot tap against the floor. Gibbs had been watching the kid carefully, especially whilst walking. His main stance was upright, correct, bordering on military precision; but he also hunched his shoulder, walking as if he had a stiff back and right leg. Something there definitely wasn't right, something giving Gibbs call enough to concern.

The two agents who had pulled in to the car park behind the first sedan had dumped their respective backpacks behind their desk before Gibbs gave them the brief command to 'head out'. It was past midnight by this point, and both agents knew Gibbs would expect them to come in the next morning at the same time as if they'd left at eight. The stake-out hadn't come to anything in the sense of the stake-out, but Tony had arrived, and that definitely counted for something.

Once the elevator had clicked shut, Gibbs turned his attention to Tony, who had already discovered the amazing fun one could have in a swivel chair. His eyes were sparkling with the want of all children to touch something and press buttons, but somehow he doubted that would be considered a good idea. He'd watched enough movies to remember pressing buttons in a federal building could cause very bad things to happen. Like the end of the world, who knows, maybe the NCIS Head Quarters building had an end of the world switch. Oh, he had to find that, just in case.

"Tony." The voice brought him back from his musing about the end of the world and stopped him spinning in a full 360 on his chair. He looked over at the silver haired lead agent with his piercing blue eyes, but still managed to hold the gaze. _Confidence_, Gibbs surmised, turning his own chair to face the teenager. "Why did your parents leave you in D.C?" He was pretty sure he could guess at the answer, but hearing it from Tony could tell him more about the boy than the story. Especially when the mention of his "parents" caused him to drop the gaze, fixing it instead on the corner of the table.

"I don't know." A default reaction. Like saying you're fine. But, Tony continued with it. "Sometimes I don't think my parents want me around. A fourteen year old kinda spoils the atmosphere at business dinners." He finished with a laugh, although the ratio of humour to bitterness was much higher on the latter of those two things.

"Have you got any family I can call, anywhere you can stay?" Again, he was already expecting the answer. Tony shrugged, one hand fiddling with the zipper of Gibbs jacket he still hadn't taken off.

"My family consists of my father, his wife and the house staff. Where my father is a mystery to me and the house staff are in New York." Tony still hadn't looked up, keeping his eyes flicking anywhere but towards the agent.

"Then I'll finish up and you're coming home with me." Gibbs replied boldly. No question in that, even when Tony started to say the word 'but' he was cut off by Gibbs' calm look of 'no buts, no questions, and no complaints'. Tony sat back in the swivel chair, a small smile peaking out.

* * *

Gibbs unlocked the door to his house, and for once locked it behind him after he'd ushered Tony into the entrance hallway. No-one was getting in that night…morning without knocking. The boy's bright spark had faded into exhaustion in the car ride over and had only just managed to keep his eyelids from sliding closed. It wasn't a long drive, even with Gibbs driving habits on empty roads – or full roads for that matter – but Tony was barely keeping it together as he stumbled up the steps. Gibbs had a hand poised to catch him, just in case…just in case.

Guiding the tired boy up the stairs towards the spare room, thought raced through the agent's mind. He left Tony in his own privacy, heading to his own room to change, by the time he'd returned, the kid had stripped down to his boxers, actually folded his clothes, military folds, and laid them on a chair.

He was curled up underneath the warm duvet, head still against the pillow. Obviously asleep. The same light wash of 'this feels right' was building up inside Gibbs' chest as he stepped forward, pulling the blanket which was folded at the bottom of the bed over the small, sleeping figure. He ghosted one hand over the boy's head, brushing a few stray strands away from his forehead. He'd get Ducky to take a look at him tomorrow; bruises didn't appear by themselves, no matter how clumsy you were.

Retreated back, Gibbs flicked off the light, keeping the hallway light on and keeping his own door open, just to make sure…just in case.

* * *

Down the street, in a parked car which had been stealthily following agent and his new charge since they'd left the street last night turned it's headlights on. The silver sedan with tinted black windows pulled out onto the street, cruising softly away and turning a corner. A phone was brought out of a jacket pocket by the passenger, a number selected and let dial.

"He found a Fed. Took him home, I didn't get a name, but I will. Want us to keep following or bring him in." There was a pause on the line

"_Just follow for now, Massimo. Follow for now and report back this afternoon."_

The line went dead and the phone was replaced in the jacket pocket.

"Keep following, we'll have to get inside, do you still have that contact? Good, call him." The car proceeded onwards into the dark night as two figures slept peacefully in the house they'd just been observing.

* * *

**Yes, it's a bit short, but we're getting there. Here is another chapter, as promised. Thanks for the reviews, they really make writing these much more enjoyable, not that they aren't anyway, but they do. So, thank-you. I'll get the next chapter up soon.**

**Soul Music.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Calm All Together**

As usual, Gibbs had woken at his usual bright and early morning, not seeming phased by the late night at all. Padding quietly down the hallway, the light still on from the night, he was surprised to see Tony was already up. He'd slipped the trousers he'd had the day before on, but left off the smart – and rather obviously expensive – shirt off. The boy was fiddling absentmindedly with the strap of his watch, which sometime in the night he'd taken off. He kept fumbling with the buckle, his fingers seemingly unable to grasp the leather strap. With his shirt off, the reason was clear, clear as dark, brooding bruises blossoming from his wrist where he'd been grabbed the night before.

As way of announcement, Gibbs rapped softly on the wood of the door with his knuckles, causing Tony to jump slightly, the springs of the bed creaking. "Need a hand with that?" Gibbs asked quietly, taking the few steps from the door to the bed; Tony contemplated the offer for a moment before holding out his arm with a muttered, and slightly embarrassed. "Thanks." After the watch had been comfortably adjusted, Tony's green eyed gaze remained on the floor, picking up his habit of intertwining his fingers with whatever he could find (clothes, coats, bed sheets). It was a nervous habit, one he'd been shouted at many, many times for. Especially when it came to fiddling with the table clothes at posh dinners. Apparently that was something just not done.

"Ya hungry?" That brought about a response, a smile in fact. Tony's stomach had been growling for the past few minutes, and it chose that moment to start up again. Gibbs stifled a laugh, "I'll take that as a yes, c'mon downstairs." Tony hopped off the bed after the agent, following him closely down the carpeted stairs. Tony had really taken in much of the house the night before, his bone weary-ness causing fault in that area, but, now he had more of a chance to look around. It wasn't quite what he expected from the quiet, mysterious agent who had saved him the night before. It was homely, the walls each painted, the curtains plain coloured and made of some soft fabric and each of the doors thrown open and held in place by their door stops.

Gibbs had made it to the kitchen and was getting on with something beside the stove when Tony made it into the room, his bare feet hitting the polished wooden floor as a decided difference from the carpet of the hallway. Not that you'd have carpet in a kitchen…would you? "You can sit down you know, chairs won't fall apart." The man said without turning, the smell from the cooker drifting around the kitchen. Tony sat obediently, pulling out a chair and stretching out his legs underneath the kitchen table.

What was that smell? He knew it, just rarely had it. Wait…that was the smell of pancakes. Man, pancakes were good! Couldn't remember the last time he'd had real pancakes, not that he'd had fake pancakes either, but any pancakes were good.

No matter how much Gibbs wouldn't have minded staying home with the now rather talkative boy – which was strange since Gibbs hated staying in the house except in the evenings, and then he rarely went anywhere except the basement and his bedroom. One of his agents had once joked that Gibbs only had a garden and a staircase leading to the basement, no other rooms – but he did have to get to work. And he had to get Tony checked out. He might not say anything, but he was still moving stiffly and, if nothing else, the bruises around his wrist could do with a quick check. It wasn't like Ducky would mind, he never did.

* * *

Throughout the short drive towards the Navy Yard, Tony spent his time examining the interior of Gibbs' car, commenting on bits and pieces he found particularly interesting or that he could link to popular culture. Oddly enough, Gibbs found it endearing, he liked the kid's company. He was energetic, intelligent and bright. Sure, he talked a hell of a lot, but then again Gibbs hardly talked unless he had to, he never thought filling the silence could be so…he couldn't really think of the right word.

The chair Tony had been playing around on earlier that morning was still there, no-one bothering to move it, even though Agent Cadman was already sitting at his desk, with the other agent, Agent Dalrym, sitting opposite. Both their heads were seemingly buried in paperwork, but Gibbs' trained eye could see someone faking. Neither agent batted much of an eyelid when Gibbs sat the boy down in the same chair, ignored the flashing message on his computer screen which was advertising a few new e-mails and sat himself behind his desk.

"Why are there always so many windows in federal buildings? Or they always have loads of glass walls, did they run out of bricks or something, since you'd think that having lotsa glass around wouldn't be a great idea since they smash and stuff, which makes a good effect and all, but then you have to clear it up. But, you never see it getting cleared up, that would be boring screen time."

"How many federal buildings have you been in?" Agent Cadman asked, since the statement hadn't really been directed at anyone.

"None! If you don't count this one. I just see them in movies, they're all the same, like Hollywood had one blueprint they had to follow. I don't know your name, what's your name?" Tony had already taken to swinging on his chair. Gibbs could be caught forcing down a smile.

"Agent Cadman, you can call me Roy." Cadman smiled, looking up from his papers, kid had spirit.

"Roy. Like Roy Rogers. He's actually called Leonard Slye, so you can see why it was changed, can't you. Not that there's anything wrong with the name Leonard, but Roy Rogers sound _much _better." Cadman laughed, casting a glance at his partner, who gave a shrug, hiding his own smile.

"Are you writing reports? They're always writing reports in the movies, but you never see them, what's it like to write a report?"

"Cadman's writing a report, but I finished mine." Dalrym announced with a hint of smugness.

"Really? That was quick, how long have you been in, do you sleep? It's not early, it's only about half past eight. I have to be up at five when I'm at school, but it's Christmas holidays, so I'm not. Who are you again, I know his name, and I know Gibbs, but not you, who are you?"

Well, the kid talked a lot. Dalrym sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't a 'kid' person. "Agent Dalrym." Came the slightly short response.

"You have no first name, that's tragic!" Tony exclaimed, the sarcasm securely hidden in the joyous tone. Gibbs had his desk phone to his ear, but was still listening intently to the dialogue going on around him.

"He's called Peter. We call him Pete, but he doesn't like it." Cadman informed Tony with a grin towards his partner. Gibbs rose from his desk, drawing the attention of the room. Such a simple movement.

"Tony, you mind staying here while I go talk to a friend? Don't touch anything." The boy nodded his enthusiasm, head bouncing like a rubber ball. "Sure, Gibbs! I won't leave my fingerprints on anything…except the chair, but they're already there."

Gibbs reached out a hand and gently ruffled the soft brown hair before turning towards the elevator, shooting Cadman a look which said 'anything happens to him you won't get a chance to resign.' He got a nod in return. The doors of the elevator were just shutting as he heard the bright voice ask "So, where do you keep the End of the World button?"

* * *

Gibbs had always been good at keeping things from everyone; Facts, figures, information. People knew what he wanted them to know and it was damned difficult to find anything about him to the contrary. But, this didn't stop him finding it incredibly hard to keep much from one of his dearest friends, the irreplaceable Dr. Mallard.

The cool breeze which hit Gibbs when the doors slid open was a pleasant hazard of the morgue. There was only one body present, lying on one of the cold metal tables which lined the room. A dead – obviously – Petty Officer from their currant case, but the autopsy had been finished and his chest sewn up in the customary black stitches. Rather gruesome. The cultured voice of the M.E. flowed around the grey and blue area when the door opened. "Good morning, Jethro. I assume this is going to be about the young man from last night. Roy decided to tell me this morning, he said out of self preservation, but I believe there is some natural concern there, the man does have two sons of his own."

It was true, Roy Cadman had two four year old twin sons and whilst he rarely talked about them, he did have their picture on his desk along with his wife's. It was something Gibbs never resenting, he was a well rounded agent and having a family was not his fault. It did make Dalrym quite pissed if he had to leave early for some reason, sometimes a father just had to do what a father had to do.

"I want you to take a look at him, Duck. Says his parents left him here, doesn't have anywhere to go and there are bruises that are far older than last night." Gibbs' expression was unreadable, but the M.E. could swear he could detect a flash of anger in those cool blue eyes.

"Of course, Jethro. I've finished with Petty Officer Kerreldean and I'm sure Mr. Granger can put him to bed." Ducky indicated the young man in scrubs who was hovering off to the side.

Back up in the bullpen Gibbs found Tony had pulled his chair up towards Cadman's desk. Both were laughing over something, probably the story Cadman was telling as he started to continue it, ignoring the occasional eye-roll from Dalrym.

"It was only me and Pete in that warehouse. Had no idea where back-up was, completely on edge, hyped up on adrenaline and we heard this crack from inside. Must've jumped three foot in the air before headin' over to look. Pete was in point and snagged the trip wire. Pulling it out this plastic skeleton fell right on his shoulder. Should've seen his face! Look like someone had told him his birthday had been cancelled, the shock!"

"Shut up, Cadman! You yelled like a sissy and tried to shoot it." Dalrym called over sulkily.

"Yeah, but at least I didn't miss!" Roy retorted, causing Tony to burst out laughing again. It was amazing how young he looked, even compared to Roy who was only in his early-thirties anyway.

"Hey Gibbs!" Tony greeted exuberantly, his grin causing Gibbs to crack a smile of his own. The kid really had an infectious smile.

"Hey, buddy. This is Doctor Mallard, d'you mind if he takes a look at you?"

Tony's eyes widened and his body language took a severe downturn. He swallowed, eyes darting back and forth, on hand gripping the course fabric that covered the swivel chair. He didn't answer; it was as if his mouth had become the Sahara Desert. Gibbs knelt down in front of the boy, gently placing a finger under his chin to bring his gaze up to meet his.

"No-one is gunna hurt you here. No-one." It took Tony a moment, but he nodded slowly, holding Gibbs' gaze even though his eyes showed the bright eyed apprehension.

"Well, Tony, let's get you back down to my office."

"Okay, Doctor Mallard."

"Please, my friends call me Ducky. And we're friends."

"Ducky? Why do they call you Ducky?"

"Well, that's a rather interesting story. When I was –." Their voices faded as the elevator doors opened and the Medical Examiner lead the boy by his shoulder towards autopsy.

"I want to know everything about the family. Names, births, deaths, properties, pets." Gibbs instructed his two agents and was rewarded with identical 'yes, boss's as he made his way down the stairs after the descending elevator.

* * *

The welcome desk and metal detectors in the lobby were clearly obvious from the doors leading into NCIS HQ. A secretary looked up from typing as a badge was placed on the desk in front of her. The letters CIA clearly visible next to the face shot and name. The secretary surveyed the badge and the official looking printed paper before directing the three men upstairs, each of their long coats flapping in a clichéd fashion.

The elevator from the lobby dinged as it reached the third floor and the three figures excited, striding towards the two occupied desks. The badge slapped down on a desk for a second time. Roy raised his head, taking a glance at the identification.

"CIA, Agent Monroen." Came the curt response from the leader in his dark coat.

"Yes, I can read that, Agent Monroen." Roy replied with a nod, passing back the leather covered ID. "And who are these two other delightful gentlemen?" He asked, leaning back in his chair. Agent Monroen gestured with a thumb. "Agent Massimo and Agent De Lucai."

"So, what can NCIS do for the CIA this fine morning? We're always willing to help our _friends _in the alphabet soup." Dalrym mirrored Roy's relaxed posture, resting his elbows on his desk.

"We have been informed that you are holding an Anthony DiNozzo. He is now in the custody of the CIA." Monroen seemed almost smug.

"Oh what grounds?" Dalrym posed the question, frowning slightly at the glare Roy shot at him. _Congratulations, Dalrym, you just confirmed that Tony was here. Nice going, moron!_

"On these." The agent introduced as De Lucai slapped the piece of paper so carefully examined by the secretary at the desk. Roy read over it carefully, raising his eyes towards the three agents.

"Pete. Call Gibbs." His voice was quiet, dark.

* * *

**I like cliff-hangers, they make things more interesting. Thank-you so much for the reviews, they're awesome to read and I will be updating soon, hope you enjoyed it.**

**Soul Music.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Especially Not You**

"Don't…dead people lie on these tables?" Tony asked hesitantly, eyeing the metal slab cautiously. Ducky laughed softly, guiding him to one of the shining silver flat-tops. "Only for short periods of time, and I personally make sure Mr. Granger scrubs them perfectly clean."

Tony didn't look convinced, but pushed himself up onto the table after glancing back over at Gibbs who was standing reassuringly behind him. The former marine gave him an encouraging smile, taking his place beside the table as Tony slowly removed his shirt. He had his bright eyes downcast, as if embarrassed. Pulling the material over his head he left the shirt wrapped up around his hand, fiddling with it in his lap, not wanting to look up towards the eyes of the two men in the room.

Gibbs, for his part, couldn't hide the look of anger, absolute disgust that flashed across his cool blue eyes. But, he did stay quiet. Ducky, however, let out an audible gasp, which had Tony cringing away in a quick strike of movement, his hands pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

A dark purple bruise, greying at the edges covered Tony's ribcage, the clean edges left by something Gibbs really didn't want to think about. Out of some paternal reflex that Ducky doubted would ever leave the ex-marine, he brought a hand and wrapped it protectively around Tony's shoulders. The boy's head was hung near his chest, his shoulders trembling gently. He tensed for only a moment when he felt Gibbs' comforting arm around him before he leant into the embrace, resting his head against Gibbs warm chest, hands still in his lap.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay." Gibbs muttered, bringing around his other hand to stroke the young boy's hair as he continued to tremble softly against Gibbs' chest. _Only fourteen_. He met the M.E.'s eyes; his own contracted with anger, jaw set tight. Ducky knew that look and could almost feel sorry for the individual who had done this to Tony. Ducky stepped back, letting the intimate scene play out: the young boy who had only been in their life for less than a day with his head buried safely under Gibbs' chin. There was nothing to break that protective hold the marine had over the young lad now, nothing short of murder. And even then…

Tony raised his head, furiously swatting at his damp cheeks. "Sorry," He muttered, shoulders still tense and rigid.

"Nothin' to be sorry about." Came Gibbs' impossibly soft voice for the usually hard agent.

"Yeah, there is. Sign of weakness to cry, nothing to cry about." Tony protested, starting up messing with his shirt again. Gibbs pale eyes softened as he laid one hand over Tony's fidgeting one, stilling their movements and making Tony look up at him with a warm finger under the chin.

"Nothing to be sorry about." He repeated, keeping his eye-line level with Tony's so he could see the sincerity written across his face. After a moment, Tony nodded once. Gibbs tapped him under the chin affectionately.

"You mind if Doctor Mallard has a quick check, just to make sure…" He let the sentence hang, watching Tony's eyes dart back and forth between himself and the doctor, finally ending with an almost inaudible "Okay."

"Good boy." Gibbs straightened up, letting Ducky come forward from where he'd been off to the left, not being intrusive. Ducky's ministrations were gentle and slow, but Tony still flinched whenever a particularly tender spot was probed. Gibbs kept a hand resting on the boy's bare shoulder, stroking his thumb over the skin in a quiet rhythm. Now didn't seem the time to ask just where those bruises had come from.

"Alright. I'm all done, my brave lad." Ducky announced stepping back from the table and giving the still apprehensive boy a smile. Tony immediately pulled on his shirt just as the autopsy phone rang shrilly, leading Ducky to answer it. There was a silence, only cut through with a rustle of Tony's shirt and the slight creak as he lowered himself off the silver table.

"Jethro, I think you should take this." The doctor's voice was calm, but his eyes switched over to Tony, who had started to regret not bringing down his jacket with him.

* * *

"Yeah, Gibbs." Was the curt answer Dalrym received when the phone had been handed over.

"Boss, the CIA has paid us a visit. It's about the boy." His voice was lowered near the end of the sentence, his back turned in the swivel chair, trusting Roy to keep a close eye on the CIA suits.

"That _boy _has a name, Dalrym. Get rid of them." Gibbs replied shortly, CIA or not.

"It's not that easy, they've got a court order."

Agent Monroen wasn't the most patient of men, nor was he the most polite. Stepping up, he reached out and pushed the 'speakerphone' button. "Agent Gibbs, my name is Agent Monroen of the CIA. We have a court order to take Anthony DiNozzo and place him under our custody." The silence on the ends of the phone lasted only a few seconds.

"On what grounds are you taking him under _your _custody?" It sounded as if Gibbs was already moving.

"I'd prefer to tell you in person, Agent Gibbs." Roy couldn't quite believe it, but after that statement, Monroen hung up, pressing down the receiver. He hung up on Gibbs. Dalrym flashed a glance at his partner in which the words, _Oh, crap_, were clearly visible.

Long, drawn out seconds passed in silence before the elevator dinged open. Out of the three that had descended towards autopsy, only two had come back, leaving Ducky to sort out a file or two in his neat office. Tony was standing a few feet behind Gibbs, keeping in the man's shadow as much as possible. A contrast to the confident young man that had bounded out of the elevator that morning.

"Agent Gibbs." Monroen drawled, extending his hand. Gibbs glanced at it, but stopped short of shaking it, standing calmly in front of the CIA Agent.

"_Special_ Agent Gibbs." He corrected calmly.

"I apologise, Special Agent Gibbs. I see you've brought the boy, thank-you."

"He's not leaving with you. He's under NCIS protective custody."

"Under what means, what evidence do you have that he needs protective custody that we can't provide." Monroen sneered, eyeing up Tony like a piece of meat at a butchers.

"That's not something I can discuss with you, it's an ongoing case." Gibbs still remained calm, but he was controlling his urge to place a hand on Tony's shoulder, who he could feel standing nervously behind him.

"But, I'm afraid we have a court order to take him into _our _custody."

"Not your case, not your custody."

"I'll just check with your Director, our court order will over-ride your case."

"You do that; today's his golf day, but feel free to leave a message with his secretary." Monroen glared at Gibbs.

"Alright, you'll hear from us soon. And, it was nice to meet you, Tony." Monroen's smile to Tony was the same grin snakes had just before the devoured small, innocent mice. He clapped the boy on the shoulder, who naturally shrank away from the touch, only to find himself with Gibbs hand securely on his other shoulder, his cold eyes piercing Monroen until he was out of sight with the elevators shut.

"Roy, write me up-."

"Custody paper. Already brought it up, boss." Gibbs nodded approvingly, turning to Tony and guiding him towards his desk. Roy pushed the swivel chair which Tony had previously pulled towards his own desk back towards his boss's.

"What does the CIA want with me? Whenever the CIA come in the movies it's never good. I haven't done anything, anything bad. Really. I mean, I hit a cat with my bike once, but they wouldn't call the CIA for that." Gibbs chuckled, ruffling Tony's hair.

"Don't worry, Tony, they won't be getting anything. Especially not you." Tony gave a broad smile at that, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Roy chose that moment to hand over the printed custody form and a pen to Gibbs, not that Gibbs didn't always have a pen in his pocket. Still, Gibbs accepted both, signing his name in the space provided and filling in the two section Roy had left blank. The reason for detained custody section and custody agent. In his own handwriting and black, permanent pen, Gibbs wrote the words 'Child abuse' clearly and his own name as the custody agent. He wasn't letting the boy go. No way.

* * *

The dark sedan pulled out of the visitor's lot. Inside, the driver was silent, the passenger was silent and the last of the three was sitting in the back with a laptop open on his knee. "The tracking device's reading clear. How did you get it on him?" De Lucai, the agent in the back asked. Monroen smirked from behind the wheel. "When you pat someone on the shoulder it's easy to get near someone's pockets. Remember that."

Massimo, the third of the group sitting in the front passenger seat, had brought out his phone and had pressed 1 on the speed-dial.

"The tracker is operational, but we could not get the boy. He is now under the Navy cop's custody."

"_How did that happen? You were meant to have a court order ready. Have you not contacted the Director?"_

"We are about to contact the Director, sir."

"_Do not try that now. Attempt the next plan."_

In the brightly lit car from the winter sunlight outside, Massimo grinned in a highly unpleasant fashion. "Yes, sir, and what about the Agent?"

"_What about the Agent, Massimo. There are many NCIS Agents, one will not be missed."_

The grin widened. "Yes, sir." He hung up the phone, turning his head to De Lucai. "Plan B. Tonight," De Lucai chuckled softly, watching the small red dot pulsing on his screen and showing the exact location of Anthony D. DiNozzo to within ten feet.

* * *

**Horrifying, another cliff hanger. Told you I liked them. The reviews are amazing, they make my day, so thank-you so much. I will get another chapter up as soon as I possibly can. There are so many routes for this story to take, who knows where it'll lead! Thanks again for reading, hope you enjoyed it.**

**Soul Music**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Locked in Tight**

Gibbs rested his arms against the railings of the walkways overlooking the entire bullpen below. Roy and Dalrym were both gathered around one desk with Tony between them looking at something on Roy's screen. The boy seemed to be ignoring his bruised wrist as he waved it vaguely in the air, trying to convey some point through gesture as well as what he was saying. A figure stopped beside the senior agent, casting an eye across the scene below. "Quite the actor." Ducky remarked at the boys smiling countenance.

"Don't think it's an act, Duck." Came the quiet reply, shifting his weight on his feet, "So, what's the story." He was almost dreading the answer. Especially when the M.E. took a deep breath, resting his own hands on the railings.

"That bruise is blunt force trauma; something hard and smooth. It would definitely be painful, but nothing's broken; he was very lucky there. But, his back is what worries me more. You saw the scars, they're old, going back at least three years, perhaps even more."

Gibbs posture stiffened, but his face remained neutral. _No more than eleven. Perhaps even ten. _Yes, he'd seen the silver streaks criss-crossing Tony's back, only two of them still angry and red. Recent.

"He#s not just been beaten once." Ducky concluded somberly, taking in his friend's body language. In a matter of hours, Tony had worked his way, with his easy smile and bright eyes, into Gibbs' closed heart. Yes, children were always a soft spot, an effect for Gibbs, but this was taking him even to an extreme.

Pushing himself off the railings, Gibbs made his way towards the stairs, Ducky's voice following him. "Find him who did this, Jethro." He stopped on the first step to look back up at the doctor. He gave a quick nod. "For both your sakes." Ducky finished, but for his ears only.

Roy was laughing heartily at some comment Tony had made about the state of his desk when Gibbs arrived. Ven Dalrym had cracked a grin as he sat on the edge of Roy's incredibly neat desk.

"Those your sons?" Tony asked, pointing towards a photograph framed on Roy's desk. The blonde agent grinned, picking up the photo.

"Yes, Sam and Ian."

"And your wife?"

"Annie."

"You have a really nice family." Tony handed back the frame with the comment, eyes lingering on the happy three in the picture.

"Yes, I know it." Roy gave Dalrym a quick smile and was received back by a simple eye roll.

"Hey, Tony." Gibbs called calmly, hiding his surprise when the boy bounced off his chair and stood almost to attention in front of Gibbs. He had an urge to say 'at ease' but resisted, smiling instead.

"Hey, Roy, I feel coffee would be a good idea. Dalrym suggested, catching the glance Gibbs shot at him. Roy nodded his approval, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and following Dalrym towards the elevator.

"Pull up a chair." Tony grabbed the nearest wheeled chair, which happened to be the same chair he'd taken a liking to, seating himself and bouncing on the brings of the swivel chair, beaming at Gibbs. There were times when you just couldn't pin-point Tony's age. On first meeting you might say sixteen, further investigation and fourteen seemed a perfect number. Gibbs turned his own chair towards the grinning boy.

"Tony, I'm gunna ask you some questions, just tell me if you don't want to continue, okay."

Tony's bouncing stopped, his gaze dulling, but he nodded.

"Alright. Who gave you that bruise?" _Out with it_. His voice was soft, but his eyes almost betrayed him with their burning anger. Not at Tony – never at Tony – but towards the individual who had caused the boy pain. It was wrong to cause any child pain…any child at all. _Especially Tony._

Tony cast his eyes downwards, his habit of fiddling with the hem of his shirt playing out again. Gibbs waited patiently, blue eyes fixing Tony with a soft gaze. The boy fidgeted, not raising his eyes from the crumpled hem of his shirt.

"Tony?" The soft voice probed once more, noticing the shining in the boy's green eyes. Reaching out one hand, Gibbs rested it on Tony's cheek, raising his head to look at him.

"Promise you won't think less of me." Tony's wide eyes pleased, his voice quiet.

"Nothin' you can say will make me think any less of you, buddy." There was another long pause, Gibbs brushed a thumb ovr Tony's cheek as a single tear slipped down.

"My father." The voice was almost inaudible, a single whisper that had Gibbs' heart in knots. But, emboldened by Gibbs' warm hand cupping his cheek, Tony continued.

"When he gets angry, there's not usually anyone else around. He's all civil to customers, but he takes it out on me and…and business has been bad. He…he, um, he used the back of a chair I broke in the hotel. Gave me…this."

His hand rested on the on the heavily bruised ribs. Gibbs hand slid round to the back of Tony's head, pulling him into an embrace against his chest. Tony wrapped his arms around the agent's back, burying his head into Gibbs' chest whist his hand stroked through the boy's soft brown hair. He didn't think it was his imagination, but he felt sure he felt a few lacerations marring the smooth skull. _I will kill him. _

Oddly enough, Tony wasn't crying this time. All cried out for the day, just lying against the agent's chest in the safety of his arms. It took a lot of will power not to lay a kiss on the boy's forehead, but contented to run his fingers through the light hair for the time being.

From his vantage point above on the railings, Ducky turned, allowing himself a smile to become evident on his face. It would be beneficial for both of them, he was sure.

* * *

By the time Roy and Dalrym returned, after a coffee break which rivalled someone going AWOL, Tony was again wrapped up in Gibbs' thick NCIS zip up with Gibbs shrugging on his thick black coat.

"I have that file for you, boss." Dalrym muttered to Gibbs as Roy called Tony over to show him his famous magic trick involving a full coffee cup and a pen. Tony of course complied, never one to miss out on magic tricks which could potentially make a mess.

Dalrym handed over the papers, which Gibbs stored in one of his inner pockets of the coat. "Keep searching then head home." Dalrym nodded, glancing over as Tony's easy laugh filled the bullpen.

"Usually it works, seriously!" Roy protested as he shook the hand he'd just drenched in lukewarm coffee. "Sure it does!" Tony laughed, grinning at the blonde agent, he'd definitely taken a liking to Agent Cadman.

"C'mon Tony." Tony looked up from the pen and coffee cup, obediently following Gibbs towards the elevator, Gibbs hand resting lightly on his shoulder. To the trained investigator Roy was, he could see Tony standing significantly closer to his boss than he had that morning. Roy permitted himself a smile, taking his seat back at his computer. He was hardly surprised that Gibbs was leaving early. If six thirty was early for them.

"You ever seen him like this, Roy?" Dalrym asked. He'd only worked for Gibbs for just under a year, whilst Roy was closing in on his second year with the senior agent.

"He's always protective over kids, but, no. Ask Ducky, he knows him better."

"You see what he wrote on the custody papers for a reason? Maybe we _should _talk to Ducky, I mean-."

"Peter, if it's something we need to know, Gibbs'll tell us. You don't pry into Gibbs' reasoning, never." Roy shot Dalrym a smile before turning back to his scanning of the DiNozzo Inc. website.

* * *

Tony had been quiet since entering the car, and even stayed close-mouthed during Gibbs more than careful driving – so different from his usual tyre squealing fun. He was still quiet, and wrapped in Gibbs; coat, when the agent opened his front door, guiding the boy inside. He seemed to be thinking, his eyes unfocused as he stared out the car window and only exiting the car when Gibbs had cut the engine and opened his own door. It wasn't that Gibbs was worried, he just wasn't sure whether Tony was just thinking or remembering No-one should have to remember abuse.

So, he introduced the boat.

"There's a boat in your basement." The boy commented, the first thing when the skeleton of a boat came into view.

"Yeah, I can see that." Gibbs smiled, switching on the light and descending the stairs with Tony in tow.

"Why are you building a boat in your basement?"

"Shed's too small."

"Fair enough." And it was. If you needed somewhere big to build a basement, why not go for what was basically another room. It was better than building it in your bedroom, then you'd have to move your bed and that could cause way too many problems.

Gibbs went straight to the spot he'd been working on for the past few days, sitting on the sturdy base of the boat, working on one of the ribs curving up over his head. Tony hovered slightly uneasily, eyeing the wooden structure.

"C'mere." Gibbs gestured with a hand, causing Tony to step closer. "Go with the direction of the wood." Gibbs moved back so Tony could slide in front of him, rising up his hands to hold the sander. Gibbs laid his hands over Tony's directing the movements. There was silence for a few moments, broken only by the sound of sander on soft wood.

"What did you do in the Marines?" Tony asked after a few minutes. It didn't surprise Gibbs all that much; he had been wearing a USMC shirt that morning.

"I was a Gunnery Sergeant." Tony looked over his shoulder, grinning. "That's so awesome."

Following that, Tony's questions became quicker, more specific, following intently to whatever Gibbs replied, especially when Gibbs recounted one of the missions he'd been on. It became Tony sitting cross legged on the boat whilst Gibbs filed a sharp edge down carefully. It was just so _easy _to talk to the kid. Gibbs hadn't realised how long they'd been down in the shadowed basement until Tony yawned, a hand in front of his mouth. Checking his watch, Gibbs sighed. Ten past ten.

"Bed." He put down his filer on the side bench, watching Tony's minimal protests. He just stared calmly, a partial smile curving the corners of his mouth before Tony gave in.

At least the guest room was being put to good use; Tony had folded back and made his own bed the morning before, military precision. Curious.

"It's getting cold, don't want you catching a chill." Gibbs picked up one of his NIS shirts passing it to Tony as he ferried him up the stairs. Tony took it, looking over the wording with interest, trying to figure out one of the numerous three letter agencies. Gibbs left Tony to change. The kid would need some clothes soon, he'd only had a single spare change and that had been used up pretty fast.

The boy had once again folded his clothes onto the chair with neat creases and had pulled the duvet up so his bare shoulder was visible under the light streaming from the hallway. So used to getting himself ready and into bed, it wasn't surprising Tony had neatened everything up himself. However, Gibbs padded softly into the dim room, casting a smile over the curled up, so small, figure. Leaning down, he pulled the duvet over Tony's shoulder, brushing a hand through the boy's hair. Tony shifted slightly, making a small sound. Gibbs smiled, giving into the urge and bending down, laid a soft kiss on the boy's temple.

"Night, Tony." He murmured softly, moving towards the door.

"Thanks, Gibbs." The whisper came quietly, but Gibbs' sensitive ears caught it.

"You're welcome."

Once downstairs, Gibbs made the decision to stay next to the fireplace in his living room – preferring to have just one floor between himself and Tony rather than two if he went to work on the boat. Moving towards his coat, Gibbs pulled out the sheaf of paper Dalrym had given him; seating himself next to the lamp beside the couch, Gibbs began to leaf through it. Printed documents of the DiNozzo family: Deangelo DiNozzo, forty six, Tony's so called father. Rosanna DiNozzo, deceased. Deceased. Six years ago, meaning Tony would've been eight. Gibbs leant back into the couch cushions, eyeing the faxed death certificate. And then there were the three marriage certificates with Deangelo DiNozzo's name on it _since _the time of Rosanna's death. Three marriages in six years, each with less than six months between them and none lasting longer than a year and two months.

Sickening.

Anthony DiNozzo, parents Deangelo and Rosanna. Nothing after two years ago. When he was twelve he had just disappeared from the family. No name on the DiNozzo Christmas card sent out to the employees of DiNozzo Inc, though the female name changed yearly from girlfriend to wife to girlfriend again.

Flicking through another few sheets, Gibbs found a sheet of enrolment. Three years ago to Rhode Island Military Academy. Well, that explained quite a lot. The neatness for one thing.

Anthony DiNozzo, fourteen, parents Deangelo and Rosanna, disowned at twelve, sent to RIMA. No. No family should treat a child that way. No. Not now. Not ever. _Not Tony._

Taking the papers with him, Gibbs switched off the lamp and travelled the short distance up the stairs. He leant his head around the doorframe to the guest room, checking on his young charge, his young protection. And he would, with all his heart, soul and body. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, even with what he'd just read bouncing around inside his head like Tony on a swivel chair.

* * *

"Is he still sitting there?" De Lucai asked impatiently, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

"Yeah, a guy's allowed to sit around before he goes to crash. Be patient" Monroen shot back, looking at the thermal image on the screen on his lap. It showed a single figure sitting on a colder seat, but the image wasn't sharp enough to see what that figure was doing.

"No, wait, he's moving." Massimo cut in, eyes fixed on the image on Monroen's laptop.

"See, patience always pays of, Lucai. Follow him." Massimo shifted the camera as the figure moved through the house. Up the stairs, pause, along the corridor.

"Getting into bed, lights are off, when can we go." It took Monroen a few minutes to answer as he watched both the figure at the end of the corridor and the considerably smaller figure just two rooms beyond.

"Wait an hour, and then we go."

The seconds passed with excruciating boredom. The two figured in the thermal camera's range had barely moved for the past forty minutes and didn't look as if they were going to. Finally, Monroen closed the laptop's lid. Time to move.

The three agents exited the car, leaving each door unlocked, gun in hand. Their master locksmith, with the ability to snap a lock in under thirty seconds, went first, fixing out the front door in a record time. Moving silently through the house, the agents spread out, two heading for the stairs whilst Massimo stayed downstairs by the door. It was the creak on the fourth step from the top which woke Gibbs. But, it wasn't until the smash that he was out of bed like a flash, weapon from under the pillow on hand.

Monroen and De Lucai had padded silently into the bedroom and clasped a firm hand over Tony's mouth before the boy could react. With the gun placed firmly against his temple, he hadn't dared move. It was only when Monroen tried to haul him upwards did he lash out with a foot, missing the agent and kicking over the night stand which smashed noisily into the chair.

Monroen growled, pulling Tony with him, gun pressed back against his head. De Lucai had already come face to face with an irate Gibbs and was struggling with his own gun, a distraction as Monroen dragged the helpless boy down the stairs, jarring his already painful rib cage.

With a swift knee in the right place, Gibbs left De Lucai alone, sprawled on his carpet, tearing down the stairs just as Massimo slammed the front door. Well, he did know how to open a door. Yanking it open, Gibbs sprinted after the car, which had already started the engine. Taking aim for the wheels, Gibbs fired off his clip, hitting the car four times before the back right tire blew out. But, the car kept going, speeding ferociously through the streets, skidding back and forth on its tail. Breathing hard as his breath clouded up in front of him, Gibbs stared at the empty street. Lights had began flicking on in the houses around him, but he had only one thought. _Tony._

De Lucai had began to come round from his painful meeting with the floor just as Gibbs laid a foot against his neck.

"Tell me where you're taking him." His voice was calm as a glacier, deadly as one too. De Lucai managed a strangled laugh, closing his mouth tightly. Gibbs growled, already dialling on his phone which he'd grabbed.

"Cadman, my house, now, bring Dalrym." And he hung up, foot still pressed against the piece of filth littering his house. CIA bastard had taken his son, and he wasn't happy.

* * *

**Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I know, we all hate them, I hate reading them, but I'll get another chapter up quickly, really quickly. I mean, I'm getting into this story now, so it's all good. Anyway, love the reviews, they really make this worth writing, and if you have any suggestions I'm never going to turn them away. Seriously, I love people's input into things. You're all amazing followers, thank-you so much.**

**Soul Music**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Come All Together**

The bullpen was silent, eerie, by the time Roy had dumped De Lucai into interrogation to stew in his own failings. A lot of the time the bullpen was quiet, but most especially when Gibbs was prowling the carpeted floor like a caged tiger, growling like one if someone so much as met his eyes. Dalrym had arrived mere minutes after Roy, having taken a longer route towards Gibbs' house, ready to snap up what photographs he could of skid marks, but now he was staring grimly at his screen, scrolling through the multiple pages of information connecting to Tony, or his "family", to the CIA. Monroen's badge had checked out, but Massimo and De Lucai had come back without any recognition, but fingerprints might tell the rest.

As the doors to the elevator opened, revealing Roy looking grim, but alert, Gibbs wordlessly left, taking the stairs instead of the lift, passing Roy as he exited. Casting a look across at his partner, the second in command took his seat, switching on his desk lamp.

"Almost feel sorry for the dirt-bag, don't you? Gibbs in that mood."

Roy looked up, face blank. "No." Dalrym frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Why not? I mean, yeah a kidnapped kid is serious, but I've never seen Gibbs this furious."

"I'd be the same if someone took my son: on the war path."

"Yeah, but Gibbs doesn't have a son." Dalrym scoffed quietly, you never knew if Gibbs would reappear. Roy picked up his pen, turning towards his own gathered intel.

"You keep thinking that."

* * *

Gibbs had made a tech bring him the findings on De Lucai's fingerprints, which had come back with a positive match in AFIS. He'd told Roy curtly to take the prints as quickly as possible and get them down, and also because if he did them himself he was likely to kill him. He quickly checked the viewing area behind the one way mirror was empty. Empty, just the camera. However, when he strode into the square room, he slammed the door behind him with a loud snap. De Lucai jumped, his heartbeat quickening.

Turning the chair around and taking a seat in front of De Lucai, Gibbs opened the file the technician had brought him outside the room. Opening the thin folder, Gibbs proceeded to scan over the papers with a practise eye, in a practised silence, his expression unreadable.

"I won't tell you nothing." De Lucai broke the silence after a few minutes, a faint accent running through his speech. Gibbs slammed his hand down onto the open folder, causing De Lucai to jump, his chair thumping on the carpet.

"Ricardo De Lucai, arrested eight years ago, you're a petty criminal. Run with the big boys, never one yourself. Where is he?" He knew that both his agents were frantically finding every piece of information the world held on R. De Lucai to find some case and connection to the DiNozzos.

"I-I…I am not saying anything without a lawyer. You can't ask me anything." De Lucai's eyes were flicking everywhere except at his interrogator. The look Gibbs gave him was a typical 'Ya think?' Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it over the camera lens, plunging it into darkness.

* * *

_Tony blinked, wrapping his arms around his knees. The room was dark, cold, with a severe lack of windows, or any light for that matter. Repressing a shiver, he leant his chin on his which he'd pulled up to his chest. His ribs still throbbed, his wrists and forearms blossoming new bruises even over the old ones he already had. The only light was streaming from under the thick wooden door in front of him. The only piece of furniture was a wooden chair draped over with a heavy woven blanket, nothing else. Nothing more._

* * *

"Boss, you need to see this." Roy's voice came over the speaking from the viewing area behind the glass. There was still nothing but the inside of Gibbs coat showing on the camera screen, but that wasn't the screen of interest. Roy chose to ignore what he could see through the glass.

A few seconds passed before Gibbs entered the viewing room, his blue eyes burning. The usually utterly centred young agent Roy was took a moment to take over as he took in Gibbs' countenance. Dalrym pointed towards the television screen they'd just tuned into, and all three pairs of eyes were drawn towards it. News cast.

Reporters were gathered in front of a tall, modern, glass-fronted building with a single man standing behind a pedestal of microphones. The words scrolling along the bottom of the newscast held all three occupants of the room transfixed.

_CEO of DiNozzo Inc Deangelo DiNozzo received the ransom demand including the amount demanded and a picture of his son, Anthony DiNozzo, just after six am this morning. Mr. DiNozzo called a press conference to plead with the kidnappers to return his son safely._

Gibbs jaw tightened as the last few seconds of Mr. DiNozzo's "heart-felt" speech cut through the tiny speakers. _"I implore you for any information on my son. Please." _

The man on screen had a worn face, his eyes trying to convey just how miserable he was. Gibbs however, wasn't convinced.

"Cadman with me, Dalrym _when _you get that to talk, call me." He gestured with a disgusted thumb towards the interrogation room where De Lucai was hunched in his chair, shooting furtive looks towards the door, just in case it opened to reveal an even more irate Gibbs.

"Boss, wait! I found something else." Dalrym called, pulling out two sheets of paper and handing them to Roy as he jogged to catch up with the Gibbs-on-a-warpath walk.

* * *

Roy hadn't wanted to ask to where they were going as Gibbs' insane driving skills were put to the test. Weaving in and out of 8am traffic was almost a death task and Roy was hanging onto the door hold for dear life, praying to whoever was listening that they'd get to their destination in one piece.

The black sedan screeched to a halt, half on the road, and half on the pavement, Gibbs striding from the car with Roy close behind. The second in command wasn't surprised when the fancy bronze plaque on the wall next to the revolving door announced the building to be _DiNozzo Incorporated._ A rather bewildered secretary directed the short tempered agent towards the elevator and the top floor where Mr. DiNozzo's office happened to be. Roy gave a nod of thanks before hurrying after his boss, the elevator already open. Just as the doors closed, Gibbs could see the secretary watching them as she picked up her phone, undoubtedly to call upstairs.

Therefore, it wasn't a surprise when Daddy DiNozzo met them at the elevator.

"Agent Gibbs. If you haven't realised my son has been kidnapped, I don't have time." Was his curt greeting, striding back towards his old fashioned wooden planked office, so out of place in a modern building. The office looked perfect, picture-esque with its comfortable chairs and squared off stack of papers next to a high powered computer.

"Tony was taken from our custody, therefore you do have time."

"_Anthony _was taken from you? And you mean to let me leave it to you to get him back?" DiNozzo laughed, harshly, sitting down behind his desk.

"Yes." Gibbs short reply came. Roy pulled out the two sheets of paper Dalrym had handed to him, dropping them onto DiNozzo's pristine desk. "You deposited money into an account twice in the past week. $40,000 in total." Gibbs continued, his voice level as he stared down DiNozzo's eyes – so different to Tony's bright greens, his fathers were brown, dull, emotionless.

"I give money to many charities; I gave two donations this week."

"So, Ricardo De Lucai is a charity case?" Roy chipped in calmly from his stance beside the door, hands in his pockets. DiNozzo visibly paled. Gibbs leaned forward, his palms flat on DiNozzo's desk. "What did you pay the bastard for?" His voice was soft as a whisper, sharp as an icicle.

* * *

_Tony didn't know the time; didn't know the hour. His watch had been taken off him and all he was left with was his shivering. The chill was cutting into his bones, even when he'd pulled the NIS shirt over his knees to keep in the warmth. It hadn't worked. The fear hadn't abated, but he wasn't going to let them see it, not going to let them have the satisfaction. That's what they did in movies, wasn't it. Played it brave even when they were scared. You didn't see Sean Connery crying when he was held hostage, Tony wouldn't either. He _wouldn't. _Right?_

* * *

The revelation of what DiNozzo had just imparted to him hit Gibbs like a steel hammer.

"You sold your son out to kidnappers. _For advertising._" Roy voiced the statement out loud, his horror evidence of his paternal attitude. Gibbs eyes had darkened, the pale blue hardly noticeable against the pitch black backdrop.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this!" DiNozzo protested. Gibbs lost it. Hauling DiNozzo up, he slammed the man into an ornate bookshelf, some of the volume clattering to the floor.

"And how was it _supposed _to go?" He growled, face inches from DiNozzo's own.

"It was supposed to be simple. They took him and I gave the money. Got some time on screen, promotion for the company. But, it didn't work. They want more money before they release him, compensation they call it for having to get the boy from you. Stupid boy got himself put into custody with you!"

"Don't you _dare _blame Tony for this. Blame yourself. Now, you are going to act as if we don't know and you will answer the phone when they call, comply with the demands and let us handle the rest. You will do nothing without my say. Sit." He shoved the pitiful excuse for a parent into his previously vacated chair, looking over at Roy, who shared his look of disgust.

It only took an hour for the phone to ring.

* * *

DiNozzo reached to pick up the phone, but Gibbs grabbed his arm, reaching over to the speakerphone button. He got a nod from Roy who was ready with the tracking equipment and pressed the button.

"_Mr. DiNozzo." _ Came the slick voice from the other end.

"Yes." DiNozzo's voice shook.

"_Fifty thousand each by 1900."_

"You can't be serious! I-." Gibbs shot him a glare that could make an angry lion run screaming.

"I want to speak to my son." There was a brief laugh on the other end.

"_Like you care about him. However, I will speak to Special Agent Gibbs." _DiNozzo looked up.

"I don't know of whom you speak."

"_Really? How about now?" _There was a brief scuffle sound on the end of the phone before a yelp ripped through Gibbs' chest.

"Tony!" Gibbs couldn't help himself leaning towards the phone. Roy was typing furiously, but his jaw was stiff and clenched.

"_Ah, I see he is there. Good morning, Agent Gibbs."_

"What have you done to him, bastard." Gibbs snarled. There was that soft laugh again.

"_It is just a finger, a clean break, it'll heel I assure you." _Roy's fingers stopped typing briefly, taking a second to comprehend the horror. Gibbs eyes had widened, one hand fisting by his side. DiNozzo seemed unmoved from his current state of apprehension. Gibbs doubted it was for his son.

"_Fifty thousand, 1900. Or it won't be a finger. Check your letter box, Mr. DiNozzo" _The line disconnected. Roy swore, smashing his hand against the table. No trace, only down to a 100 mile radius. 1000 buildings in that area alone. Gibbs stood, eyes fixed on DiNozzo.

"Get $150,000 here, now." DiNozzo looked at him horrified. It wasn't easily intimidated, but this silver haired agent's gaze was making constant shivers cascaded up and down his spine. "Roy, letterbox."

Roy nodded, flipping out his phone to call downstairs and get the…whatever it was brought up. He needed to stay in case another phone call came in.

* * *

The package was delivered by a nervous looking young man in a security uniform along with the surveillance footage for Dalrym. It was small, hardly bigger than a CD case, thin as one too. Gibbs opened the paper carefully, checking each time to make sure nothing dangerous was inside. Dangerous, not physically. But, no-one can think of how to deal with dangerous mentally.

Lying in the centre of the package was a Polaroid, a single huddled figure with their head turned away from the camera. But the profile was obvious and the NIS shirt sealed the deal. However, underneath the Polaroid was a lock of soft brown hair.

* * *

**I know, terrible. And I've forgotten for the last chapters to slap in a disclaimer. So, here it is. I don't own any of the NCIS characters from the show; I only own the dirt bags and my agents. Especially Roy, I like Roy. I also make no money from this; your reviews are payment enough. I do love the reviews; your input is just as important as mind. So, thank-you for that, and I'll keep it going as quick as humanly possible. **

**Soul Music.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Troubled Land**

Tony shivered in his corner, cradling his hand against his chest. His right index finger had turned an unpleasant purple-blue with the pain radiating up his arm. Misery didn't cover the feelings tightening inside his chest right now, something that would only be loosened by Gibbs. Two days. No, less than that and he already felt as safe as anything with the agent. He knew it sounded stupid, but he could hardly help himself. He wanted him there. _Needed _him there.

No. Need was petty. Petty, Anthony. That was something he'd always been good at, scolding himself. Chastising himself.

The door creaked as heavy footfalls were heard on the other side, blocking out the light that filtered under the door. The boy huddled further into his corner, unable to control his shivering. Not from fear so much as from cold. It was winter after all, and winter in Washington D.C. wasn't something to be taken lightly.

"Good afternoon, sunshine." The bulky figure of Massimo grinned, reaching into the room with a butch hand. Tony tried to scramble away, but Massimo's hand clamped around his arm, his strength much more than that of the fourteen year old. Tony stumbled once or twice as the man yanked him down the thin corridor towards the main area of the warehouse. Goosebumps were forming on his bare legs, the shivering increasing as the cold air from the exposed space hit him full on. He kept having the weak thought that he was so,_ so _grateful that Gibbs had handed him the NIS sweater.

"Time seems to be running out for you, boy." Monroen's voice cut through his haze. Both he and Massimo were wrapped up in thick black, knee length coats, warding off the chill. "Already 1730." Monroen turned, casting a look over the boy. "And you're looking cold. What a shame." He laughed softly, fingering the phone he'd used to call Mr. DiNozzo before. Monroen continued, "And I'm getting bored, I think we shall have to hurry things up a bit." He winked towards the trembling boy as Massimo dumped him unceremoniously on the hard, freezing floor, whimpering soft as his hand jarred against the concrete. Both Massimo and Monroen had their backs to Tony, who cast a frantic eye around the warehouse.

Light, dim, pale light. Cascading under the door. Daylight. Making a quick move, Tony scrambled up and shot towards the light source, unsure why his movements felt so difficult to make. Massimo caught both his arms, yanking him back before he'd made it ten paces.

Monroen's calm voice was patronising. "Watch him, Mass, or we'll have to break his leg next." Shaking his head in a condescending fashion, Monroen fixed his eyes onto Tony, dialling a number on his phone, placing it on speakerphone for the whole abandoned warehouse to hear.

"_DiNozzo."_

"Well, I wouldn't expect anyone else." Monroen answered with a soft laugh. "Time's almost out."

"_What? It's not even 1800."_

"I changed my mind. We need the money soon, and you haven't transferred it yet. I suggest you do it soon."

Tony's heart jumped at the next voice to come on the line. _"Let me speak to Tony."_

"But, why, Agent Gibbs? To make sure he's alive?"

"_To make sure you keep your word." _The sentence was snarled, menacing. Monroen's laugh was soft, but not as confident as before. Monroen jerked his arm, bringing Massimo towards him, dragging Tony like a reluctant puppy behind him.

"Gibbs?"

"_Tony, are you alright?" _Was there a note of relief in that tight voice?

"Yeah, I'm f-fine."

"_I'm gunna get you out of there, buddy, just hold on."_

Tony licked his dry lips, clenching his jaw to stop the tears coming. _"Tony?" _The voice was quick, worried?

"It's a warehouse! Abandoned, can't hear anything else, it-." Tony shouted quickly towards the phone's speaker before he was cut off by a harsh smack to the mouth. He landed with a thump on the floor.

"Stupid git!" Monroen growled, sending a kick to Tony's already tender chest. The boy moaned softly, curling in on himself, hardly noticing Gibbs' frantic voice shouting his name. Monroen grabbed Tony by the collar of the NIS jumper, hauling him up slightly.

"I'm afraid that's all we've got time for, Agent Gibbs. Say good bye and get me my money." With that Monroen fisted around the phone and smashed it across the floor. In Tony's haze of bewildered pain, he couldn't register the threat Monroen said, but it didn't sound good.

The cold struck out at Tony once again, pulling his mind into a dark haze of muddled thoughts. The shivering increased, turning to trembling racking through his whole frame.

"Get this away from me." Monroen shoved Tony into Massimo's grip, striding away towards the warehouse door where the light was streaming.

Tony's little cell hadn't warmed up in the slightest. In fact, the temperature seemed to have dropped as the shadows gathered in. Pitch black except for the torch Massimo held as he towed the boy with him, hauling him up every time his feet fumbled on the floor.

Tony hit the floor with a sob, barely concealed. His hand hurt, his ribs ached horribly and his head was full of cotton wool. The door slammed shut with the click of a lock, leaving him in gloom. Soon, though, that gloom faded around the edges as Tony curled himself up, head resting against the glacial concrete, darkness enclosing him like an icy wave of fear, misery and desperation.

* * *

**Tension filler…Yeah, that's all it is. Short little tension filler for the time being. Everyone needs a tension filler every now and then, they keep things a-movin'. Disclaimers in the chapter before, but I can't stop with the 'your reviews make me happy' thing. So, yeah, they do. You're following is awesome, thanks for that, hope you enjoyed it!**

**Soul Music**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Need You In The Spotlight**

The dial tone was still ringing through the office, Roy's voice quietly talking over to his partner. Finally, Gibbs reached over, pressing the button that would cut off the horrible, dead noise. DiNozzo let out an audible sigh, brushing a hand through his lightly greying hair. Roy hung up his phone, closing it with a soft snap.

"Pete said a dozen people dropped something off at the desk, but none of them gave in a package, just papers. Whoever it was hid from camera view. I'll check for warehouses in the located area." He reported dully, taking the seat he'd vacated during the phone call. Gibbs stayed silent, looking over at DiNozzo, who was obviously uncomfortable under the icy glare. Who wouldn't be?

"How much have you got?" Gibbs cut through the silence quickly, his voice dark. DiNozzo swallowed, looking at his expensive laptop screen.

"$82,000. But I can't get too much more unless-."

"Unless nothing." Gibbs leant one hand on the back of DiNozzo's ornate wooden chair, leaning close. "Get the money in my hand in one hour or I'll make personally sure that the light of day never sees your sorry face again." Of course, he was going to do that anyway, but DiNozzo should know that. It wasn't like anyone was going to take what Gibbs said as a joke. The man rarely made frugal comments. DiNozzo didn't turn his head towards the quietly irate agent, but raised his sweaty hands to the keyboard.

Moving away from the piece of filth that was littering his personal space, Gibbs moved over to Roy. The younger agent was obviously dedicated, always had been, his face set as he scanned through the hundreds of buildings in the 100 metre wide radius the phone had been traced to. The second call hadn't hinted any more than they already knew, but Roy was determinedly trawling through the industrial sites.

"He said abandoned." Gibbs muttered as a list of sixteen warehouses cropped up on the screen in the usual lurid green font. Adding that into his calculations, Roy narrowed down the search.

"Three, here, here and here." Roy pointed a finger to the pulsing circles around three large buildings on the map. Each a good ten minute drive away from the other. If they got the wrong one nothing good would come out of that and Gibbs was not letting another _thing _happen to his boy.

* * *

Oddly enough, the phone rang once again, the voice on the end horribly recognisable.

"_Agent Gibbs." _Addressing Gibbs instead of DiNozzo now? See the ring leader.

"We have the money." Gibbs answered curtly, resting his palms on the desk, leaning over the sleek black phone. There was a pause for a minute.

"_Well, that's good. Especially since it's rather…chilly here."_

"Where are we making the swap?"

"_Oh, Agent Gibbs. You don't think I'm naïve enough to know that you'll have the whole area surrounded. No, I am an agent, I know the procedures."_

_Yeah, not an agent for long, _Roy thought to himself.

"What then?" DiNozzo piped up, earning himself one of the dirtiest looks anyone had ever given him from Gibbs, and DiNozzo had been given some pretty dirty looks in his time. Monroen chuckled softly on the line.

"_Since I doubt Agent Gibbs will go for leaving the money and hoping we'll keep our word in returning the boy. We'll have to do it the other way, here I have the advantage: I know the terrain."_

"And address?"

"_Well, now that would be oh so easy. And easy is never a challenge, no-one likes easy."_

Gibbs knew he needed to keep them talking, narrow down the three possible targets on the map. It shouldn't be too hard; it seemed Monroen liked the sound of his own laugh. "Let me speak to Tony."

"_Oh, Gibbs. I'm sorry, he's indisposed at the moment. Perhaps another time, when the money has changed hands…if you're quick enough that is. If you wait too long he might not feel like talking is a possibility. Especially to you." _

"What the hell are you talking about?" DiNozzo scoffed.

"_Still there, Mr. DiNozzo. I thought you'd be high tailing to the boarder by now. Is Agent Gibbs making you stick around for the show? I'm sure he is which makes things so much more interesting."_

"Where is Tony?" Gibbs enunciated clearly, his voice one step away from a growl. He wasn't going to lose Monroen now, not yet, not when he was _this _close.

"_Gibbs, Gibbs. Calm down. I just can't be asked to go get him from his…accommodations. It's a long walk and I'm tired. Tired of this talk. Better get a move on, Agent."_

The line disconnected. Gibbs raised his head and Roy nodded with a smile flashing momentarily across his face.

"But." DiNozzo protested, stuttering for a moment as Gibbs fixed him in his sights. "We haven't got the money!"

"Yeah," Roy agreed. "But, he doesn't know that."

* * *

Monroen sighed, opening the door to his little holding cell. Even inside a confined building his breath was clouding up in front of him. Massimo watched him, turning back to his paper. He didn't care much for Monroen, but the money was worth it. Shame about De Lucai, but he'd get over it. He'd get over it when he was relaxing in the Bahamas. Yeah, the Bahamas, or Costa Rica.

Monroen looked down at the shivering sight. The exposed skin was pale, the eyes closed against the onslaught of cold air the open door was bringing. "Oh, little Anthony." He murmured, a smirk forming across his mouth. "Caught in the middle of something you can hardly comprehend. Set up by your father and now look where it's lead you."

With a soft chuckle, Monroen squatted down in front of the huddled boy, scratching a rough hand over his cold head. The boy instinctively, even in unconsciousness, flinches away from the touch, teeth chattering. Monroen wasn't a doctor, but he knew his survival training. Hypothermia in particular. Mild cases varied from shivering, low energy, uncomfortable when the temperature rose, cold skin. Moderate cases was when the shivering became uncontrollable, violent even. The inability to think, confusion, fear setting in. Stumbling when trying to move, mild, temporary amnesia, loss of any co-ordination left. Of course, the feeling of being tired, wanting to sleep, speech coming difficult, thick, weakening pulse, shallow breathing.

Monroen could see this in Tony. The unconscious boy's shivering was like a tremor running up and down his spine, ever inch quivering in unison. His breathing clouding in small pants; and as Monroen reached forward to feel his pulse, he smirked. Quick, very quick in the pulse. Not so good.

Of course, it would be worse when the severe symptoms started. The complete loss of limb control. The lack of shivering, much more serious than the shaking itself. Shallow to no breathing rate. The pulse, weak, irregular…or non existent. The pupils rolled back and dilated.

"Oh, Anthony. If you're hero doesn't arrive soon, I fear you'll no longer be able to say thank-you." Monroen scraped a hand over Tony's scalp once again, pushing himself up and relocking the door.

"How's he doing?" Massimo asked, looking up from his newspaper.

"He's slipping away." Monroen stated matter of fact-ly, but the animalistic grin gave him away.

Behind the closed door, locked from the outside and letting very little light in, even though the sun had set long before, in the darkened shadows. Tony stopped shivering.

* * *

**I was going to finish with this chapter, but when I started writing it I thought…naw, I'll draw it out a bit more, because I can. That's the wonderful thing about being an author. Life in your hands! Anyway, reviews make the world go round and gotta say, I love them all. You're all amazing, love all of you for following it this far, makes me feel like it's going well. I'll get another update quickly, you know I can!**

**Soul Music.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Fact Versus Opinion**

The car fish-tailed wildly with Gibbs at the wheel. It wasn't like Roy expected anything less. Instead, he had the location on the laptop, one hand braced against the door to keep himself from whacking his shoulder into the window. He'd already informed Dalrym, who had been in the car park before Roy had hung up the phone.

Gibbs knew he had two good agents with him. Dalrym was calm, collected, distanced. You'd hardly ever see anything getting to the man in his mid-thirties. His aim at the firing range was good and he could take the jibs that Roy threw at him, he didn't seem as well rounded as his partner, not having a great deal of family life outside of work, but Gibbs didn't pry too much into his agents work lives.

Roy was a hard working, dedicated man. He had an empathic personality which could get him involved in cases, but that had never stopped him doing his job. He was a determined man, following something through to the end. However, his family came first. Which Gibbs understood perfectly. Family came first and there had been two occasions when Gibbs had snagged a member of another team for a day, even though he hated doing it and wouldn't unless there was an ambush or robbery in progress, to let the man deal with his sons. Of course, both of those times had been utterly serious: when his wife, Annie, had been caught in an RTA, and when both his sons had developed a severe case of the flu. Circumstances.

The black sedan Dalrym had taken was already parked at the back of the warehouse. The place was run down, the second floor completely unstable with a roof that sagged in high winds. Right now it was just the frigid close that was slowly freezing over the corrugated iron room. When it thawed it would be dangerous. Behind Dalrym was another car, three agents standing in their bullet proof vests, waiting upon instruction.

"Pacci." Gibbs exited the car, walking over to one of the three agents, the most senior among them. He'd called in Pacci's team as back-up. He wasn't having this going down any other way that perfectly without a single hitch. Pacci stepped forward, hand resting on his gun holster. Gibbs explained briefly, speaking quick as a flash, but Pacci, as an experienced agent who had lead his own retrieval missions, took it all in quickly.

"Wilcove, Yates, with me." Pacci muttered to his two agents, splitting off from Gibbs team, taking the back of the warehouse. The blueprints had told of two entrances to the dark, lonely warehouse, each one had to be covered.

With the confident movements, Gibbs sent Dalrym a few steps back, covering both himself and Roy as they checked out the corners, leaning a head around before assessing it was empty and safe.

"_Found the car, Gibbs."_ Pacci's voice whispered over the microphones. It wouldn't be hard to spot, the blacked out car only had three functioning wheels and multiple bullet holes in the back. So, at least they had _definitely _been here. No doubting that. And it was most likely they still were. Roy's trace had the signal still coming through, even if it was a different number, strong and clear when they pulled up.

"_Boss, got a visual…It's Monroen. He's alone, right of your position, in the open quarter."_ Dalrym's voice was low and quick. Gibbs affirmed back, scouting round the side of the building with Roy at point, gun held steady.

From behind, around the back of the warehouse a shout echoed around the cold warehouse. Gibbs team immediately whipped their heads around for a second before getting to the job in hand.

"Chris. Pacci! Report." Gibbs demanded in a hiss as gunshots pinged through the cold, silent air, the tension rising to suffocating levels. "Roy." The command was quick, sharp. Roy braced himself, skirting around the wall with his boss, keeping an eye out, and an ear sharp. Especially as the gunshots faded. "Dalrym, where's Monroen?"

"_I lost visual, he ran out the left side, away from the shots."_ Well, he would, wouldn't he? Running towards shots would be idiotic.

"_One of them is down, Gibbs!"_ Pacci's slightly breathy voice informed them.

"Chris, watch the car, one's running." Roy countered, sprinting after Gibbs as he entered the warehouse, sweeping his gun around, checking for any target. The room was empty, frigid. Except for a single table. Roy kept a close watch over the door leading away from this main area whilst Dalrym covered the door they'd come through.

The table had sparse contents coverage. A laptop, a smashed phone and a Polaroid camera.

"_Gibbs, you'd better get over here, dirtbag wants to talk."_ Pacci's voice was crackling over the microphones.

Massimo was slumped against the cold wall, one hand pressed against his shoulder. Gibbs took no time in kneeing down, ignoring the protest from his knee, and laying an "accidental" hand on the bullet wound. Massimo growled, jerking away.

"Talk." Gibbs commanded, eyes giving no leeway of questioning.

"I want…the money." Massimo replied. Mistake.

"Tell me where he is or I'm calling the coroner instead of the paramedics." Gibbs voice was a mere hiss in Massimo's ear, not even Roy, standing confidently over his boss and the scum-bag could hear the threat.

"Promise me a deal!" Massimo pleaded pathetically. Gibbs reached inside his coat, pulling out his phone. "I hear the morgue tables are especially unwelcoming with a bullet hole in your skull."

Roy wasn't trying to listen, but occasionally he could hear a soft moan of pain or a squeak of fear from the scum below. And he didn't feel sorry at all. Not for the pain, mentally or physically Gibbs could be inflicting on the kidnapper. Never underestimate anyone. First rule of survival.

"Roy, with me. Pacci, get him out of here." Gibbs voice was curt and he was already on the move down the thin corridor. Roy stepped over the dirt on the floor and broke into a run after his boss, keeping up with his frantic pace.

There was a door at the end of the corridor. Just a plywood slab held by hinges to the wall. Raising his gun, Roy took point letting Gibbs smack his foot into the plywood. It crumpled open, revealing the room. It was no bigger than a broom cupboard, but that wasn't what had Gibbs heart stuttering, faltering. He was sure his heart had stopped.

The exposed skin was white as paper, the body still as a summer breeze. Blue tinges highlighted his lips and his eyelashes created dark crescents under his eyes. Gibbs reacted immediately, falling to his knees in front of the boy. _His boy. His Tony. _Stilling the shaking in his own hands, Gibbs reached forward for a pulse. Nothing.

No, wait. Thready, almost non-existent.

"Ambulance." He couldn't even remember giving the command as he unbuttoned his coat. Fearful of his battered injuries, Gibbs pulled the small figure onto his lap, wrapping his coat around the drained of colour boy.

"Hey, Tony. C'mon. Open your eyes, buddy, open up." He whispered softly, holding the boy close, carding a gentle hand through his hair. "C'mon, you can do it. C'mon, kiddo."

Nothing. No reaction. Nothing. The freezing skin of the boy's head soaked into Gibbs shoulder as he tightened an arm around his charge. Brushing a hand across Tony's bruised cheek, the agent's eyes burned.

A flutter. A shudder. Gibbs wasn't even sure he'd felt it. But, there it was again, the slightest movement. He hardly noticed as Roy draped his own coat over the child, but he did notice the sliver of green eyes. "Hey. Hey, buddy." Gibbs whispered, stroking a warm thumb across Tony's cheek. The dark eyelids fluttered, eyes trying to focus. Tony opened his mouth, attempting to speak. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you. I've got you now." Green met soothing blue for a second. A shudder ran through Tony's thin frame and a whimper escaped the frozen boy. Gibbs ran a soothing hand through the soft hair as Tony's head rolled on Gibbs' shoulder. The violent shaking was increasing, grating across Tony's ribs.

Pleading green eyes, laced with pain met Gibbs', Tony's hand gripping Gibbs' sweater as tightly as his waning energy would allow. Gibbs' continued murmur increased, Tony leaning into the warmth of Gibbs' chest. A single word mumbled by the frozen, juddering body, held safely in a tight embrace, sounded a great deal like a whispered "Dad."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**Yes…So? Who knows my first try at real affection? Who knows if it worked? But again, two in a night, awesome. You can guess the rest of what I'll say by now. Just give a quick thanks to Annika. And a hi to everyone. Reviewers? You're amazing in so many ways, you don't need me to tell you how, just thanks. And who knows what direction this'll go in next?**

**Soul Music.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: My Sword and Shield**

Gibbs hadn't noticed how long the ambulance took. His only focus was on the quaking child in his arms, his heart fluttering each time he let out a soft whimper of pain. One hand stayed constantly in motion, brushing through the cold hair and occasionally adjusting Roy's coat as it shifted off Tony, his shivering constantly loosening the tight wrap of the thick black fabric.

He ignored the soft buzzing in his microphone as Pacci reported something, ignored Dalrym and Roy's conversation by the door, even for a minute ignored the paramedics. Or perhaps just didn't register them.

"Sir." One of the medics tried again, turning an exasperated look towards Roy and Dalrym. A smile quirked the side of Roy's mouth, despite the circumstances.

"Boss, the paramedics are here." The blonde agent said quietly, bending down beside their leader. Gibbs raised his head, taking in the paramedics with a steely gaze. The gaze that said 'you may be medical technicians, but you harm him in any way and I'll have your head on my desk by lunch time.' One of the paramedics almost took a step back, but his older and less nervous partner met the blue eyes momentarily.

"Sir, we need to assess his condition, it won't take a moment." The older paramedic, who's name tag read 'Silva', reached out to gently pull away Roy's protective coat, pressing his fingers to Tony's neck, checking the weak pulse that could be felt there.

"What's his name?" Silva asked quietly, beaconing his younger partner forward. Her nametag read 'Robinson' in the clear black embroidery.

"Tony." Gibbs replied quickly, his blue eyes drifting back to the boy. His eyes had closed again, seemingly slipping in and out of consciousness as the shock to his body continued, even through the gentle warming.

"Okay, Tony. My name's Rick and this is my partner Jenny. Can you open your eyes for me?" Silva's voice was calm, soft, but that still didn't mean he got a response from Tony.

"How long's he been unconscious?" Silva directed the question towards Gibbs as Robinson slipped an oxygen mask over Tony's face. The boy didn't even flinch, no reaction what so ever.

"About ten minutes, he regained consciousness once, but not since." Roy interjected, professionally, still keeping back so as not crowding the tiny room.

"Alright, we're just gunna take Tony in with us, are you riding with your son, Agent Gibbs?" Silva asked as he helped Gibbs position Tony on the gurney Robinson had brought to the door. Gibbs was reluctant to let the boy away from his warmth, _away from him_, but complied with the paramedics' instructions, tucking the thick silver blanket, which had always looked like a wreath of tin foil, tighter around the shuddering figure, ghosting a feather-light hand over Tony's forehead.

With quick instructions to Roy whilst jogging beside the wheeled mattress, Gibbs clambered into the ambulance, taking a protective position beside the boy's pale head, one hand resting on the soft brown hair.

* * *

Ducky had received the call from Roy, the calm agent explaining the situation and the suggestion that he drive to the hospital before Gibbs sent the whole floor staff off crying. He'd done it before, and that had only been for a car crash victim under his watch. Getting in the way of Gibbs at a hospital would very quickly turn you from an employee into a patient.

So, he'd brought his Morgan into gear and cruised down to the hospital. It didn't take long for him to find Gibbs, pacing – more like stalking – up and down the same corridor, wearing a hole in the floor.

"Jethro." The M.E. announced his presence, which seemed to have a good effect as the silver haired agent ceased in his pacing. Proceeding to move down the corridor towards Ducky.

"No information. They keep telling me they'll update me when they know anything. Just go in there and find out, but they don't!" Gibbs fumed, gesturing with one arm towards the double doors Tony had been pushed through ten minutes previously.

"Then they will tell you when they know anything." Ducky calmed, indicating that a chair would be a good idea right now. Gibbs refused to comply, his mind racing far too much to just sit down, or calm down for that matter. Not right now, not with adrenaline still pumping through his body with each heartbeat, not with his senses still on a knife-edge, not with Tony's face so pale, so still imprinted on his mind. _No_. Not now.

"They asked for his next of kin, Ducky." He muttered darkly. The M.E. cocked his head onto one side, "And what did you answer?"

"I said I'd contact him." Ducky didn't need to ask whether he'd done it or not, he'd known the stubborn, gut-strong, protective agent for long enough.

Picking up his distracted pacing to stop from hitting something with the pent up energy, Gibbs carefully blanked out his mind, taking a deep breath. Ducky had taken a seat when Gibbs refused, watching his friend stride through the section of white-washed corridor, ignoring the glances from the nurses standing at the Emergency Room desk. They'd seen many things before, and a worried man fearful for a small boy was a sight none of them had truly ever been used to. It was touching and sad all at once. Touching for the obvious show of love and affection, but the point was that this was a hospital. There would have to be a tragic reason for such worry ensuing, and usually they weren't good reasons. Yes, ER nurses had seen it all.

But, it didn't take long for a middle aged doctor to push one of the double doors open, even if it felt like hours from Gibbs' perspective. Ducky arrived at his friend's side quietly as the doctor began speaking, Gibbs having already bombarded him with questions.

"Young Tony should be fine; we've just moved him to a private room." The doctor informed the two men quickly, although he was being beaconed away by a frantic nurse. "I'll find someone to show you to his room." 

When Gibbs was lead towards the quiet room, the first thing he noticed was the still unpleasant shade of Tony's skin. Whilst when he'd first met the child he'd been slim but not skinny with a healthy colour, ignoring the darker bruising, now he was contrasting horribly with the white sheets wrapped around him.

The monotonous beeping from the heart monitor was the only sound echoing around the small room, no rustle of fabric as Tony moved, no soft sigh. Even the oxygen mask covering the boy's mouth was silent as he breathed peacefully by himself, his head resting on one side, turned towards the door. With a soft sigh, Gibbs pulled up one of the stiff chairs hospitals always brought in, positioning it by the head of the bed. He hadn't even noticed Ducky leaving.

"Gave us – _me _– quite a scare there." He muttered, brushing the boy's still too cold-for-comfort hair away from his forehead. "What I said back here. I meant it, I mean what I say, kiddo. I've got you now." Letting out a sigh, Gibbs leant back in his chair, the heart monitor becoming only remaining sound once more

* * *

Hours later, after the sun had faded and only the minimal lights had been kept on in the wards Gibbs had drifted off to sleep. At intervals doctors and nurses had crept by to check on an IV drip or just to glance at the vitals snaking across the screen mounted above the bed. Gibbs had even growled away a medical student as they'd stumbled in with the intention of studying this patient. Not likely. But, each had said that his temperature was rising, his colour improving slowly.

The ward was quiet, the room too. Gibbs had his chin resting against his chest, arms folded, eyes closed. And for once he was actually asleep. But not for long.

The rustle of cloth registered somewhere in his subconscious, drawing him out of the light rest. It wasn't a large movement, hardly a shift at all, but Gibbs' eyes zoned in on the soft turn of Tony's head. Leaning forward, Gibbs reached out a hand, resting it on Tony's cheek. His head shifted again, this time towards the gentle warmth of a comforting hand. Consciousness slowly returning. Gibbs didn't vocalise anything, didn't have to, he just sat patiently, running a calloused thumb over his kid's cheek in a rhythmic motion.

The seconds passed slowly, crawling the hands around the clock. Those agonisingly slow seconds were worth it when he was rewarded by the blurry shard of green blinking in the dim light. Gibbs let the smile spread over his face. "Hey, buddy." He said softly as Tony attempted to focus his reluctant eyes. "How you doing there?"

Tony's tired eyelids dropped slightly as he leaned against Gibbs' palm. Who cared how petty it was, how pathetic it was. _It was nice. _His throat was dry and his mouth was still covered by the oxygen mask, but Tony still managed a soft "Thank-you." Before his green eyes slid closed.

"Nothing to thank me for, Tony." Gibbs murmured back, knowing full well that Tony had already slipped back into a restful sleep.

* * *

**I'm gettin' there, I'm getting there. I would imagine the next chapter will be my last, and it's more than likely that I'll be starting up a new story, if you guys want me to of course. Remember, Monroen's still out there somewhere…biding his time. So, give me a heads up if you think another story would be a good idea. Of course, I've got some DiNozzo Sr kicking to do, all in good time. Believe me, all in good time. Now. There are over 131 reviews up there. And triple that, add a few thousand that that's how much I love reviewers. Yes, this chapter's a little short, and this comment is getting a little long, but who cares? I'm having fun, hope you are too. Can you tell I like Roy more than Dalrym; Roy gets to use his first name and everything. Anyway, random comment. I'll only be getting one reply up tonight, I'm afraid, but we'll have some more tomorrow, it is Saturday after all. Thanks for getting this far, really appreciate it!**

**Soul Music**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: The Moment I Said It**

The clock in the hallway ticked past into the early morning, the sky outside a murky blue-brown. Gibbs sat in the same chair he'd pulled up hours before; just to the head of the bed, one hand resting by the pillow. The door was opened quietly, but still drew the ever vigil agent's attention. Registering no thread, Gibbs turned his head back to the sleeping figure wrapped in white sheets and pale blue woollen blankets.

"Watch him Peter; call me when he wakes up." The dark haired agent nodded silently, pulling the only other chair in the room up.

Leaning forward, running a hand through the soft hair. Dalrym wasn't trying to listen in, but even if he had been, he wouldn't have been able to hear the muffled whisper Gibbs left the sleeping boy with. But, again, he wasn't one to interrupt a touching, intimate moment. With a final brush over the now much warmer forehead, Gibbs left the silent room, Dalrym taking his seat and swinging his legs up onto the chair Gibbs had just vacated.

"Something strange there, kid, something strange." He muttered, more to the room at large rather than to the actual bed.

On average it takes four hours and sixteen minutes to drive to New York City from Washington D.C. It also takes two days and twenty one hours of continuous walking to cover the same distance. But, Gibbs wasn't walking; he wasn't – in a non-technical, metaphorical way – driving either. He was tearing.

The car skidded, leaving black streaks on the tarmac as Gibbs changed lanes. Four hours on average, but that wasn't taking into account this particular journey. That would take the average down considerably. A horn honked irritably as Gibbs swerved in front of a small hatchback, ignoring the continued noised as he pressed his foot down harder towards the carpet.

The toll bridges hardly slowed the black official sedan down at all and the brakes kicked in, parked directly outside the entrance where the revolving door slowly spun it's way around. One of the wheels bounced up onto the curb, letting the car park straight, out the way of the road but close enough to be incredibly obvious. The time was just turned to eight a.m. the weak winter light washing through the streets.

The place hadn't changed, and the situation wasn't becoming dissimilar. Gibbs strode through the revolving doors, ignored the receptionist and punched the elevator call button, Roy standing calmly behind him. The receptionist just outside Mr. DiNozzo's room gave them a surprised look, opening his mouth to protest before reading the look written over Gibbs' face. You didn't have to be able to read people well at all you realise that this read 'do not mess'. His job wasn't worth as much as his life.

"Agent Gibbs!" DiNozzo exclaimed as his antique wooden door slammed open, revealing at least one thoroughly pissed NCIS Special Agent and one who was getting there. Mostly because he'd had to do this trip from D.C. to New York twice in the past week and he didn't like travelling much.

Marching up to the ornate desk, Gibbs heaved DiNozzo up by the lapels of his, no doubt, overly expensive suit and thumped him painfully into the wall behind. Roy closed the door quietly behind him.

"They left him in a room with no protection from the weather because you wouldn't pay up." Gibbs voice was barely audibly by DiNozzo, but the tone was more than enough. "You were willing to sell your son's _life _for advertising space. They broke his finger, caused him pain. But, they were just carrying on what you've done, aren't they?" DiNozzo stayed in shocked silence.

"Aren't they!" Gibbs shouted, tightening his grip on the businessman's lapels, attempting very hard not to choke the bastard. DiNozzo flinched, but refused to open his ugly mouth. Loosening his grip on DiNozzo's black lapel jacket, Gibbs punched his hand into a fist. The knuckles of his hand connected neatly with DiNozzo's jaw-line, snapping his head back into the wall. The man, with his perfectly greased back and side-parted hair let out a pitiful yelp, falling to one knee at the agent's disgusted feet.

"Assalt!" DiNozzo yelped, well more mumbled as he was holding his throbbing jaw. He turned pleading eyes towards Roy, who had conveniently moved to stand by the window. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. DiNozzo, I wasn't looking. I'll be sure to watch in case you imagine such an act again." The blonde agent replied, turning his shoulder towards the business reject, staring out across the view of New York.

Gibbs stared down at the pathetic lump, hauling himself off the floor to stand upright against the cold wall again. "Aren't they?" His voice was quieter now, cerulean eyes blazing with an unseen flare. Making eye contact with the incensed agent for a second was enough to bring forth a whimpered, "Yes." From the cowering man.

Roy took his cue, pulling out his handcuffs from his back pocket, drawing on his memory to Mirandize the son of a bitch. "You apparently have the right to remain silent. Anything you say _can_ and _will_ be used against you in a court of law. You apparently have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney – which I think is unlikely as you're wearing Armani- , one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" Roy recited from memory; it wasn't hard to remember the Miranda rights, even if you didn't always agree with them. DiNozzo nodded dumbly as his hands were forced roughly behind his back.

"You should be happy that Gibbs won't be interrogating you on this one, he'd most likely kill you." Roy remarked cheerfully, walking DiNozzo out towards the front entrance where he'd hand him over to the local Police. Child Neglect or Abuse wasn't a federal crime, leaving it to the local LEOs to deal with. Of course, that didn't mean that Gibbs wouldn't be glaring over the officers like a hawk throughout the investigation. When he wasn't standing by Tony's side that was.

With the adrenaline levels still raging through his body, Gibbs reaction to answering his phone was twice as quick as usual, sending Dalrym – on the other end of the phone in D.C. – off kilter.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"_Oh, boss…Urhm, uh. He's awake, boss." _Dalrym faltered for a moment before regaining his composure.

"Tell him I'll be back in three hours." Gibbs shut off the phone, quickening his pace, black coat – which he hadn't bothered to remove during the brief encounter with _that _– billowing behind him. Roy was waving a cheerful goodbye as the armoured police van pulled off the curb with their new cargo, but when he saw Gibbs striding through the revolving doors he scooted round towards the passenger seat. Dawdling at this point would be being left behind in New York, which wasn't a good idea. He'd promised he'd be back for dinner that night and, even if he wouldn't admit it, he was more scared of his wife's wrath than his boss's. Fair point.

* * *

Unless spoken to, Roy hadn't spoken on the trip back towards D.C. Gibbs had received two phone calls, which he'd taken at his usual warp speed, muttering a few replies before concentrating on weaving in and out of the cars on the road in front of him. The hospital parking lot had been filling up with visitors since Gibbs had left almost nine hours earlier. Nine hours a lot could change.

Roy was a tall man, but even he couldn't keep up with the frankly incredibly speed at which Gibbs was moving through the hospital corridors. Lagging behind meant that he only caught the end of a very brief conversation Gibbs had with a thin man in a black suit and the exchange of an A4 envelope. Still, it wasn't his business to pry into his boss's life, unless Gibbs was a case, but somehow he doubted that Gibbs would leave enough evidence to become a suspect.

The room was much more animate than the last time Gibbs had checked in. The blinds were open, letting in the pale light. There were three occupants of the room: Dalrym leaning casually against the back wall, Ducky sitting on one of the plastic chairs, and of course the young patient, sitting up against a mountain of soft pillows, his eyes slightly tired, but still intent. Walking through the open doorway, Gibbs caught the end of the conversation, one of the cheerful stories Ducky always had stored away in his extensive brain.

"Gibbs!" Tony's jubilant cry brought Ducky out of his story, causing Dalrym to turn his head. Pushing off the wall, and heading towards the door as Roy beaconed him out, they were good partners as it went.

"Hey, Tony." Gibbs' smile was wide and genuine as he stopped beside Tony's bed, ruffling the boy's hair. He'd seemed to like it before, and it wasn't like Gibbs objected to doing it, it felt right. Ducky smiled at the reunion before making his quiet exit into the corridor. "Doctor told me I'm getting out this afternoon." Tony replied, itching the bandage securely fastened around his bruised wrist, winding up to the plaster encasing two of his fingers together. Gibbs eyes flashed at the bandaged hand, but he kept his expression light. _This was not the time._

"I wanted to ask ya something." Gibbs snagged the chair leg with a foot, drawing it towards him as he sat down. Tony's eyes held full curiosity, more or less shining with it. Trust. That was trust, Gibbs. That was trust. Now came the hard part. From the phone calls a boy like Tony would've deduced that his father was a part of this, a _big _part of this. But, would Gibbs explain it. He really didn't want to, and if his gut was anything to go by, he didn't feel he needed to. Not with the proposal he wanted to make.

"When you get out, do you want me to call one of your relatives?" The young boy's face fell dramatically. His eyes dropped to the white cast around his fingers, bringing his other hand over to pull absentmindedly at the bandage.

"Or, would you prefer to stay with me…" Gibbs didn't manage to finish the last word before Tony had sat up, ignoring the quickly increasing beeping of the monitor registering his heartbeat. His green eyes were wide, bright, excited…unbelieving?

"What?" Was all he could think of to say.

"Would you like to come back home, with me. Permanently?" Gibbs arms were suddenly filled with an excited fourteen year old. He shifted his foot back to take the weight, not that there was much of it, the surprise more than anything. _I'll take that as a yes. _Gibbs smiled to himself, wrapped him arms around Tony's back as the boy buried his head in Gibbs neck. Gibbs turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the boy's hair. His boy's hair. _Good thing he said yes, I've already signed the papers. _

From the doorway, Ducky stepped back, a smile colouring his features as he turned to move away. It was going to be a long few weeks. A hard few weeks. The court case wasn't going to be pretty, Deangelo DiNozzo would make sure of that, but from what he'd just seen, the after effects would be perfectly worth it.

* * *

Months later, as the spring sun rose from the horizon on a brand new day, a single ray of light filtered through the curtains that hadn't been closed properly. Snaking across the carpet the light hit a glass framed document hanging proudly on the wall. Three signatures adorned the bottom; the rest was elegant printed notes. Notes which announced that Leroy Jethro Gibbs had been awarded permanent adoptive custody of Anthony Deangelo DiNozzo, now known as Anthony Jackson Gibbs on any further legal or political papers here on. The light faded as a cloud passed across the sun, but the document stayed out, standing proudly on the wall above the fireplace.

_At the same moment, miles away in a small, run down motel a gun was laid carefully on the bed side table. The bedsprings creaked as a body sat down heavily with a sigh. He'd booked in under a false name, paid in cash, untraceable. Swinging his feet up onto the bed, he interlocked his fingers over his chest, staring up at the ceiling; imagining. Just imagining. Imagining a new way, a new inventive, fool proof way to seal the revenge he should've had months ago. With DiNozzo behind bars he'd have to bring in some help. Some aid. It would take planning, it would take months. He could do it, and he would. _

* * *

**Hmn…spooky. Anyway, sequel? Yeah, I think so, and I'll start it this week. I'm sorry I didn't get the reply up when I said I would, but there it is. Sequel will probably take the same amount of time. Just think of it as a next chapter. Now, a few thank-yous, like an award ceremony. First, my amazing beta, I know, I have one now, Zora. Seriously, thank-you so much. Annika, motivation for everything, thank-you! And I hope you enjoyed it. I'm talking like it's over…just you wait, the italicised man shall reveal all! And that's all I really have to say on the matter. It's been fun reviews, and you're all amazing! Thank-you!**

**Soul Music. **


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